Preacher Man
by er0sennin
Summary: The only one who could ever reach me, was the son of a preacher man. F!Courier/Joshua Graham. One shot.


**Hey all! This is my first attempt at a one shot. This short will contain smutty goodness. If you guys like it enough I might just consider turning it into an actual story. Enjoy! **

* * *

_Bein' good isn't always easy_  
_ No matter how hard I try_  
_ When he started sweet-talkin' to me_  
_ He'd come'n tell me "Everything is all right"_  
_ He'd kiss and tell me "Everything is all right"_  
_ Can I get away again tonight?_

_The only boy who could ever teach me  
Was the son of a preacher man  
Yes he was, he was, ooh, yes he was_

* * *

Wind whistled through the canyons, the axenic water of the lake wrapping and curling around her legs. It was cool and she shivered against it. Her footsteps were clumsy and her breathing was labored as she forced herself onwards. The water was thwarting her attempts at moving any quicker and she cursed mentally. She had to get to Joshua. He had ditched her about an hour ago when a meet up with a few White Legs had taken up a bit too much time for his liking. So there he left her, wandering aimlessly as she cut her way through the onslaught of White Legs warriors. A few screams echoed from above but she didn't have the strength to crane her neck and see who was at the unforgiving end of a tribal's gun.

A blur rushed by her and her eyes flickered to the movement. An injured White Legs woman was shuffling and stumbling forward, gripping at her neck. Her foot caught onto a pocket in the sand and she lurched, following into the welcoming arms of the shallow water of the lake. As Esther grew closer the White Leg looked up. Her dark chocolate eyes were wide with fear, a small glint of hostility drifting across her gaze.

She knew that look. Fear and hatred. It wasn't too long ago that she was staring into the barrel of a gun with that exact expression. The tribal kept a hand pressed to the gash on her neck and shakily withdrew her gun, aiming towards Esther's face. Esther's cold onyx eyes stared down at the woman impassively. Her arm stretched out slowly, agonizingly. The wound in her side throbbed at the movement, a deep erubsecent liquid flowing freely from the felted stitching of her clothes.

The tribal woman trembled a bit as she watched Esther's movements carefully. With the flick of her wrist, Esther pushed the barrel of the gun away, her gaze never leaving the injured woman's form. The canyon was silent now as the two women looked upon one another with trepidation. After a few tense moments, the tribal woman tossed her weapon and let out a cry, dropping into a quick submissive bow at her feet. In the wake of all the violence, the tribal knew exactly what Esther was gifting to her.

Mercy.

What good was mercy now? White Legs were close to extinction. It was Joshua who said that this was an extermination, but she didn't know it would feel like this. She was a strong believer in bringing justice upon the heads of those who have no care for the sanctity of life, but this was its own demon entirely.

She wasn't new to revenge. Nothing was more exhilarating and satisfying than driving that blade through Benny's chest while he slept. She relished revenge. It was empowering and fulfilling... so why did it feel so fallacious to walk into a camp and massacre people by the hundreds? By all means, this should be a joyous occasion. And yet, as she stood there looming over the powerless White Legs woman, she felt sorrow. Her heart was conflicted. It clenched painfully behind her ribcage and she cringed, pointing a finger behind her.

"Go," she commanded.

The tribal woman flinched as her muscles urged her to run, but she looked up at Esther and froze.

"I said get."

Still, the woman would not move.

"Get the_ fuck _out of here!"

The tribal woman jumped to life and stumbled away, the soft sound of her sobbing still audible long after she disappeared.

Esther was starting to wonder if she should've taken Daniel's advice.

Joshua's deep, gentile voice had cajoled her into this; his convincing diatribe about God and retaliation pulling her down into his twisted revenge scheme. She wasn't even a believer in God, but something about the way Joshua spoke was seductive in its own right. It coaxed light into the darkest parts of her and she hated to admit it, but she'd walk through flames for him if he asked her to.

The canyon began to clear of life as she climbed deeper into its depths. Fire and more yowls of desperation and conflict floated through the canyon homestead. People were collapsing around her but her gaze wasn't on them anymore.

Amidst the battle, at the top of a hillside, she saw Joshua. His stance was rigid and his arms crossed in defiance. In his hand she saw his .45, his grimy fingers clutching it tightly. Although her body was damaged, and she felt her strength waning with every pained step, she found herself running. Her body screamed in defiance and she felt the gunshot wound in her side bleeding profusely, but it didn't matter.

All that mattered was that man at the top of the hill and his blinding anger.

Through the crippling sounds of warring beneath her, Joshua's voice broke through.

There were two succinct gunshots, "We warned you at Syracuse, and you persisted."

As she approached the top of the hill, Salt-Upon-Wounds spotted her. He began to babble in his tribe's vernacular, but she shook her head in confusion. Behind him, Joshua was still, his gun poised at the ready. He either didn't notice or didn't' care about her arrival, and continued his fulmination.

"You took advantage of us at New Canaan to drive us out, and like the dogs of Caesar you are," the name sat heavily in the air, "you followed us to Zion."

There was silence from the tribal leader, his hands covering his face as he trembled.

"And now you stand on holy ground, a temple to God's glory on Earth. But the only use for an animal in our temple is sacrifice!"

Salt-Upon-Wounds knew what was going to happen and shook with fear. He gazed up to the courier, his voice strained and desperate, "You understand me, don't you? Don't you?!"

As Salt-Upon-Wounds continued to try and get Esther to understand, her onyx gaze met Joshua's intense blues. At times like these, she wished she could read his expressions. His steely gaze was stolid and she was at a loss. Esther dragged her eyes from Joshua's bandaged face to the helmet clad head of the White Legs leader.

"Outman! Kuna-man mad! He kill all White Legs! You talk! You stop!"

She knelt down to the man so that she was eye level, her hand grasping at her side. When she spoke her voice was soft, affable. "This isn't what I wanted. Let me talk to Joshua."

"Him hear you! You talk!"

Esther turned her gaze once more to Joshua, whose one free hand balled tightly into a fist. "Don't listen to this-this... thing!" He waved his gun towards the White Legs leader, "His cries are those of a mad beast caught in a thicket. He gave no mercy to my family, and I will give none to his."

"Joshua," she stepped forward. She raised a shaky hand and placed it gently, soothingly, upon his bandaged arm. His arm sunk a fraction beneath her touch, the barrel now aimed at the ground, "look around you. You've already won, there is no need to kill him."

The Dead Horse leader's gaze wandered from side to side for a moment before settling back onto her. His eyes were hard and ruthless, but she saw a flicker of hesitation. "He has a debt to pay for what he's done and I've come to collect. And he's chosen to cower in the water like an animal."

"If what you believe is true, he'll pay for it later," she took a step closer, pushing the gun further down. They were close now. She could feel the heat radiating off of him, feel the slight tremble of his arm, "The Sorrows don't need you to do this."

"I want to take from them what they took from me, from my family." His voice was raspy with unbidden frustration. "In _this_ life, I want them to suffer. I want all of them to die in fear and pain."

She pursed her lips into a frown, her fingers tightening against the flimsy fabric of his bandages. Over the few months she had resided here, aiding the tribes of Zion, she had become close to them; to Joshua. His plight was her plight, and right now she could sense him fighting an internal battle that she may never be able to understand. The urge to pull him into her arms and cradle him to her chest was overpowering and her hands itched at the thought.

Anger coursed through him and he shivered beneath her hand, drawing her from her reverie.

"I want to have my revenge. Against him, against..." he paused, "Caesar. I want to call it my own, to make my anger God's anger. To... to justify the things I've done."

"Listen to yourself," she said benevolently. "This is not what your God would want. You think you're doing the righteous thing, but to me... this sounds like the Legionnaire inside of you resorting to old tendencies."

He paused. She could tell the reference to his Legion days stung him, but it had to be said. His milky blue irises rose to her face, gazing at her with such intensity that she almost drew away from him. A breath hitched in her throat as they looked into one another's eyes, silently communicating like they often did so well. Behind those shielded azure orbs she sensed it; deliberation. Joshua was stubborn but for some reason he listened to her and cared about her opinion. The silence drew on for a moment before he cleared his throat, his eyes painfully dragging from hers back to the White Legs leader in front of them.

"You know, sometimes I tell myself these wild fires never stop burning. But I'm the one who starts them. Not God. Not them. I can always see it in my mind. The warmth and the heat. It will always be a part of me. But not today."

Her slender fingers, stained and speckled with blood, dug into his sleeve hopefully. "Does this mean you're going to-?"

"Yes. Now go. Get out of here. Go back to the Great Salt Lake," he said sternly, slowly withdrawing his arm from her grip.

She turned and shuffled back down the hill. It was only a few moments before she heard the patter of bare feet slamming hard against the ground behind her. She went to turn and saw Salt-Upon-Wounds scrambling to get away, tripping and moving as fast as his legs could take him. She pressed an unsteady hand against the canyon wall and looked upwards. Joshua stood at the top, his silhouette illuminated by the fires behind him. He was daunting and fierce and he walked towards her in a smooth stride.

Once he was level with her, his hand found a way to her shoulder. It sat there heavily, his fingertips burning and electrifying her soft tan skin. His eyes met hers, a softness held in his azure depths. It was a knowing look, an empathetic look. His other hand went to her face and he brushed away a few strands of her bubble gum colored hair.

"That's it, it's finished," the tone in his voice was somber and laden with exhaustion. Something flickered in his eyes and she felt taken aback by the tenderness when he spoke, "Esther, my voice of reason... thank you. Thank you for staying... with me. I could not have done this on my own."

The way her name slid from his tongue like velvet made her insides feel strange. That last part might be from the blood loss, she admitted.

"Joshua..." her words died in her throat.

"Let's find Daniel," he gave her shoulder a light squeeze. "Tomorrow will be here soon, and there is still much to do."

They went to move down the canyon but Esther's strength faltered. She tried to move her legs but her knees buckled and she staggered headfirst. She prepared herself for the fall but Joshua was there, like he always was, and he caught her. His one arm was wrapped around her lithe waist and he held her in place, his other hand finding its place to the small of her back.

"Are you alright?" His voice was gentle and laced with concern.

Esther let out a tight laugh, trying to hide the cringe when her body throbbed in pain. "Yeah it's... it's nothing."

It was then that his eyes snapped to her side. Through the dark material of her clothing, the crimson reflection of her wound glinted in the fire light. Her hand went to cover it, but Joshua grabbed her hand and pulled it back. Her onyx eyes stared at the ground. For some reason she felt ashamed. Joshua had asked her to help and all she did was get shot and then stumble around, lost in the labyrinth like canyon. With her mild medical knowledge, she knew that stomach wounds bled a lot. They also were one of the slowest ways to die, so she knew she had some time. Which was a plus in her mind. But as she sat there silently deliberating, she took into consideration just how shitty she felt. The adrenaline from the battle had worn off and all of her pain receptors were firing off at once.

"You foolish girl," Joshua whispered. His voice held no malice and she pressed shoulder into his chest, fatigue entrapping her small frame. "How did this happen?"

"It happened much like my first day in Zion," her voice was light as she tried to shrug away the seriousness in Joshua's query. "A White Leg caught me at the wrong time."

"We need to get you back," he crouched slightly and scooped her up bridal style. Esther wanted to fight it, she really did, but she found herself melting into him as he coddled her.

She hissed slightly as Joshua's speed picked up, the gradual jerks and twists of his body as he jogged through the canyon irritating her bullet wound. The sky was a deep purple in color, the orange and gray clouds from the fires around them spiraling upwards in slim tendrils. A few stars speckled the darkness, like someone took an ice pick and punched holes through the sky. Joshua was saying something to her, but she could barely hear him. The sound of running water and a soft, rhythmic thumping pounded wildly in her ears. Esther heard a splash as Joshua jumped into the lake, the crystal liquid nipping at her feet. It was freezing and she tried to pull away, but her limbs felt sluggish. To her horror, she realized her hands were numb, and she wiggled them idly. That was odd.

"How are you feeling?" His voice was almost ethereal and she looked up to him through sluggish, half-lidded obsidian eyes.

"My hands are numb," she slurred. She felt drunk.

There was a grunt from Joshua as he brought one of his bandaged hands up to toy with her fingers, "You can't feel this?"

"No," she shook her head, fighting to keep her eyes open. They slid closed and she whimpered, "What does that m-mean?"

"Keep your eyes open," his fingers tugged on her hand in alarm and her eyes snapped open, "don't fall asleep. We're almost there."

"But I'm so sleepy," she mumbled childishly, letting her eyes slide closed once again.

Behind her eyelids, a flash of silver and white danced against the darkness. It looked like static. She let out a weak, trembling sigh. It felt so good to rest her eyes. The man holding her called to her again but she paid him no mind. Besides, she wasn't sure if she would be capable of opening her eyes even if she wanted to. Her body was battling itself. One moment she felt cold, a deep kind of cold that settled in your bones and chilled your soul. Then the next moment, she felt so warm, like a giant wool blanket had been wrapped around her. She snuggled feebly into Joshua's chest, her breathing sporadic and ragged. A weight pushed down on her ribs and she coughed, struggling to take in air.

Shouting sounded in the distance and she heard the panicked voice of Joshua pushing through the silence.

"Follows-Chalk, here!" He called.

At this she heard her companion splashing through the water urgently, "What happened?"

"She was shot, grab the healers."

"But Joshua-"

"NOW," he barked, his voice echoing around them.

Were they in a cave?

Joshua dislodged her from his arms and placed her against a hard surface. It was an odd sensation, she could feel the pressure of being laid down but it felt dulled. She tried to raise her arm, but her body was no longer compliant with her brain. She knew she should feel afraid but she was oddly calm, almost accepting of what was happening. Although her brain struggled to process her failing body, she knew it was okay. Whatever happened, it would all turn out okay.

"Esther!" Joshua's bandaged hands cupped her face, "Esther, can you hear me? Keep your eyes open! God damn it all, don't do this!"

She wanted to speak, to sit up and reassure him that everything was all right and there was no reason to be so worried. Yet, she couldn't. The last thing she heard was Joshua calling her name and he pulled her into his lap, cradling her to his chest.

_It'll all be okay._

Darkness.

* * *

It had been six hours since the healers brought Esther back from the brink of death. Joshua sat frigidly against the cave wall, his arms crossed over his chest defensively. His icy blue eyes stared intently into the fire that separated him from the courier. The flames crackled and danced, their golden tendrils reaching towards the cave ceiling and licking the air. His familiar leather bound bible sat precariously against his knee, long since discarded. It had been two hours that he stared blankly at the psalms and passages before he realized that he wasn't actually reading them, and placed the book down in defeat.

Esther's armor laid scattered next to his crossed legs, broken and pulled apart. Hard as he may try, there was no way to repair the feeble, tattered leather. He'll be damned if he put her back in something not capable of protecting her. He idly reached for the panel that had guarded her stomach and held it up to the light, inspecting the small perforation in the material. They came too close today to losing her. Months ago, when she first stumbled into the welcoming arms of Zion canyon, he encountered a similar instance with her. That time, though, a large rusted blade had been driven into her side. It missed nearly all of her internal organs, merely piercing the skin. This was so different. He had been scared, although he hated to admit it. The minute she stopped responding to him was one of the most frightening moments of his life. He still didn't understand why.

Joshua rose to his feet slowly and moved over to where she slept. She was lying on her side and facing away from him, her faded pink tresses tumbling down her shoulders and fanning around her head. It was oddly reminiscent of a halo. He circled her quietly, trying not to disturb her, although he was sure she was drugged up enough with med-x to be deaf to the world. As her face came into view he felt his breath hitch in his throat. Her face was peaceful, her plump pink lips opened slightly as she snored, her thick eyelashes brushing against her high, delicate cheekbones.

She was angel, he was sure of it.

He dropped to a crouch only a foot away from her bedroll. A few strands of hair stuck to her cheeks and forehead and he reached out. The tips of his fingers had been unwrapped and exposed and he sucked in another breath as his fingertips graced her cheek. Her skin was smooth and silken beneath his touch. Something tightened in his gut and he fought with whether or not to pull his hand away. A light sigh escaped her mouth and her upper lip twitched. This wasn't right. She was two decades his junior. She was an innocent, exquisite creature and she was not intended for him. No, she was too chaste to be sullied by his touch. He would ruin her.

He brushed the various strands of hair away from her face and in doing so, the small burn in the shape of a bull upon her neck came into view. He tried not to think of the Legion as it often caused more harm than good, but as he stared at the lithe woman beneath his palm he couldn't help the anger that spread through him. The idea that the Legion would take a gentle, sincere woman like Esther and break her down, mar her velveteen skin with scars and burns... it enraged him.

The first night he saw the giant, bulging scars down her back, he idly wondered if she truly was an angel and those monsters had clipped the very wings from her back. When she cried into her hands, trembling at the memories of repeatedly being violated and tortured, he swore he would protect her from it all- even if that meant he had to stomp into Caesar's camp and finish all those bastards off himself.

A voice called to him, stirring him from his reverie.

"Was it worth it, Joshua?"

Joshua looked up meeting a familiar, stern face. "Daniel."

"Answer me," Daniel's voice was venomous as he balled his hands into fists, "was it all worth it?"

Steely blue eyes traveled down to Esther's sleeping form for a fraction of a second, "What do you mean?"

"Oh, don't do this Joshua. You know very well what I'm asking," he paced towards the cave wall and pressed his back up to it, his dark umber eyes never leaving Joshua's face. "We don't have enough people to bury the dead. Do you understand that? More people have died in this trivial power struggle than have survived. These people... they're crippled now. Their numbers have dwindled down to nothing. Why didn't you two listen to me?"

"Daniel, we discussed this before," Joshua rose from his crouch and approached his companion, "if we abandoned all hope and fled, we'd be surrendering Zion. Would you have rather risked ambush and complete annihilation, rather than fighting for our rightful place? Our home?"

"Conflict is never the answer," Daniel griped.

"Conflict is necessary."

"Sometimes I wonder if you've ever truly moved past your Legionary ways," the brunette raised his voice, faltering as his emotions gave way. "This entire thing was a frivolous act of revenge."

"Why should we flee our homestead? Should we not sacrifice everything we have to ensure our place here, in this untouched canyon?" A lump of frustration rose into Joshua's throat and he swallowed hard, trying to keep his temper in check. "Besides, I let Salt-Upon-Wounds leave. I was lenient, I showed him clemency."

"Yeah, because Esther had to talk you down," the man was nearly shouting now. "Look what following you has given her- a gunshot to the side and one way ticket to the afterlife."

"Leave her out of this," he growled. "And for God's sake, lower your voice."

"I can't leave her out of this. She is a prime example of what your crazed vendetta has done. She is an innocent girl, Graham. You forced her hand, she shouldn't have been swept up in this. Now look at her," he gestured to the slumbering girl near the far wall, "she barely made it back from the brink of death. If you won't think of the Sorrows' struggle, at least think of Esther's."

"What are you implying?" His tone was dangerous now and he had to fight the urge to punch Daniel in the face.

"You've got it bad, Joshua," the man chuckled bitterly. "You let yourself get too close to her. It's clouding your judgment. Look what you did to her."

"I did nothing," he barked, straining to keep his voice low. "She agreed to aid us in this endeavor, I did not force her hand. She is here because she wants to be."

"She's here because of you," Daniel threw his hands up in frustration. "Whether you want to admit it or not, it's okay, just remain there in your denial. But we all know she's here for you and nothing else."

"You have no idea what you speak of," Joshua turned to face the fire. He couldn't look at his companion any longer, the rage that stormed between his ribs was becoming too much to handle. If the man kept talking, he couldn't guarantee that he'd be able to control himself.

"If you commanded her to walk across hot coals for you," Daniel was close to him now, his voice bellowing in his ears, "you know damn well she'd do it, and she'd do it with a smile."

"Enough," he said brusquely.

"No! I need to get the reality of what your actions have done through your thick fucking skull."

"And what is the reality?" Joshua turned on his friend, ire welling up from his gut. "That our home is safe now? That the tribals can live amongst each other peacefully? I see no downside to your claims."

"Hundreds of people died," Daniel's tone was endearing. "That is the reality."

"Sacrifices are essential in order to move us forward. You know this."

"Will you not think of those lives lost?"

"They were an indispensable forfeiture in order to secure safety here. Sometimes death is necessary, Daniel. You are still too young to understand."

"I'm sure if Esther had died tonight," he said morosely, "you'd be singing a different tune."

Daniel had struck a nerve. Joshua rose his fist, preparing to strike at his friend. He was annoyed and insulted, that the idea of losing Esther would somehow change his resolve, that she was capable of swaying him so easily. Something pulled at his heart and he visibly flinched. God damn it. He knew he was in too deep. His attachment to the young girl was unlike anything he had ever experienced before, and it frightened him deeply. It stirred parts of his soul that he was sure he had lost the day he was set ablaze and thrown to his death.

Then it hit him. Losing her. It was no comfort that he would some day see her in the after life, because not being able to see her dazzling smile and breathe in the familiar scent of her skin in _this _life would destroy him. Even if he wouldn't admit it. Her absence would carve a giant hole in his heart that he wasn't quite sure would ever heal. The prospect sent an inconsolable pang of fear through him and he halted his movement, bringing his fist back down to his side to clench painfully. Daniel hadn't winced or moved from his position, his chilly earth colored eyes staring straight through him. There was an air of smugness surrounding the younger man and Joshua turned away once again.

"Leave," it was an order. "I will meet you in a short while to discuss issues further but for now, I think it'd be best if you kept your distance."

He expected a slew of curse words or a long, drawn out argument on why Joshua needed to leave right then but... nothing. It was quiet, save for the crackling of the firewood in the distance. Joshua felt his resolve begin to fracture and fade away. He brought his bandaged hands to his face and let out a shaky breath, quickly finding a seat near the fire pit. This was troublesome. Part of him wished she had never stumbled through his camp and collapsed at his desk, that she had never torn down all of his walls and found her way to parts of him he never let anyone see. He wished he had never met her... he wished... he wished...

"Joshua?" a small, feeble voice cut through the silence.

He was by her side in a heartbeat, "Esther? Are you okay?"

She tried to prop herself up but failed, flopping against the brahmin skin pillow. "What happened?"

"You fainted," he cupped a palm to her face. "We thought you were going to leave us."

"Not that," her thin, dark eyebrows knit together in thought, her obsidian eyes cracked open lazily. "I heard you arguing."

"Oh, yes, that. You needn't worry yourself about something like that, not now," his finger slid languidly across her cheekbone. "All you need to do is focus on healing."

She weakly brought her hand up to cover his. When she spoke her voice was vestal and childish, and she looked up at him coyly from under her thick eyelashes, "Read to me."

"Very well, then. What would you like to hear?" He asked, bemused by her request.

There was a pause as she seemed to deliberate, "Song of Solomon."

"Esther, you don't believe in all of that biblical stuff," he felt his heart speed up and it crashed wildly against his ribs. "Why would you want me to read that to you?"

"I like it when you read to me," she giggled, closing her eyes with a sigh. "Your voice is bewitching."

"But, you're not a woman of faith." He sounded like a broken record.

At this, her eyes slid open. There was a fire held in those charcoal colored depths that frightened him, and he felt that if he came closer she would swallow him up in flames. "Make me a believer."

He didn't need to read that passage to her, he had it memorized. It was a lover's psalm, a declaration of delight between Solomon and his bride. It was considered too provocative and was often shunned from churches and sermons. The implication behind her request wasn't lost on him and he shifted uncomfortably, removing his hand from her face and resting it upon his knee. He turned his face away from her and stared, engrossed in the burning embers of the fire pit. When he spoke, his voice wavered, and he turned to regard the woman with apprehension.

"_If you do not know,_  
_O most beautiful among women,_  
_follow in the tracks of the flock,_  
_and pasture your young goats_  
_beside the shepherds' tents._

_I compare you, my love,_  
_to a mare among Pharaoh's chariots._  
_Your cheeks are lovely with ornaments,_  
_your neck with strings of jewels._

_Behold, you are beautiful, my love;_  
_behold, you are beautiful;_  
_your eyes are doves_."

He swallowed hard, the rest of the passage blanking from his memory. Esther, his young, beautiful, spiritual being stared up at him with those wide, vestal eyes. There was a glimmer of something in her gaze, a small light flickering deep within her. Her pink hair surrounded her face, encircled her in a roseate halo, and she looked up at him like he was all that mattered. She was going to be the death of him.

Her mouth slid open as she sucked in a breath, "Kiss me."

"I... I can't, Esther," he dipped his head in shame, trying to banish the lustful thoughts that invaded his mind. "You don't want me."

At this, she found the strength to rise and she sat up. Her hand found his and she brought it to her mouth, placing a delicate kiss on the center of his palm. Under her intense gaze he felt naked, vulnerable. There was a moment where she paused, twisting her eyes up as if recalling a distant memory. Then her shadowy gaze settled on him once again and she spoke:

"Let him kiss me with the kisses of his mouth, for your love is better than wine_._"

"Esther..." he warned her. The remainder of his resolve began hemorrhage, and he had to restrain himself from burying his face into her beautiful coral locks.

"Behold, you are beautiful, my beloved, truly delightful."

"Stop," he pleaded. "Do you know what you're doing to me?"

She continued to recite the passage, "I am very dark, but lovely, O daughters of Jerusalem-"

Esther was interrupted when he crashed his masked lips onto hers. He couldn't restrain himself any longer. His arms wrapped around her and he pulled her from her blankets, flushing her body to his. He felt her stiffen beneath him and he loosened his grip, trying to stay mindful of her stitches. After a few moments she reciprocated, kissing him back with urgency, her delicate fingers coming up to tug at his bullet proof vest. A hand came up to pull the bandages from his lips and he caught her wrist softly, giving a small shake of his head.

Her index finger slid along his jaw and went still, her thumb coming up to brush against his covered lips. Embarrassed as he was, he needed to feel her. He needed to know what it felt like to have her skin against his. Relenting, he relaxed his posture, and she reached for his bandages. After a few moments, they were unwound, and the lower half of his face was exposed to her hungry gaze. Even in the ranger station all those weeks ago, he didn't allow her to gaze upon his face. It had been dark and it hid his insecurities, allotting him some comfort that was absent this time.

He expected her to withdraw, to hiss in disgust and chastise him for ever thinking he could be with a woman like her. He didn't want to see the disappointment in her gaze, so he kept his eyes shut tightly. A small, elated laugh bubbled from her lips and she scooted closer. A part of him panicked when he realized how close she was, when her breath was cascading against his marred jawline.

His worries were quelled instantaneously when she pressed her bare lips to his. She kissed him like a starved animal, her urgency growing with each moment, and she groaned against his mouth. Her tongue slid against his bottom lip, beckoning for entrance, and he granted it. Their tongues toyed against each other and it wasn't long before he was pressed into the cold cave floor, Esther poised over him, her legs straddling his sides. He felt a tightness in his gut and his face grew hot at the realization that he was hard. Esther sensed his growing enthusiasm and brought her tiny palm to front of his pants, rubbing in concise circles.

He broke their kiss, "Esther, don't."

"Just relax," she whispered against the corner of his mouth.

Her hand gripped onto him and gave a gentle squeeze. Joshua threw his head back and moaned. It had been so long since he felt the touch of a woman and he grabbed onto her wrist, pushing her hand onto him a bit harder. That was it, his will was broken, his resoluteness completely absent at this point.

In a flurry of fumbling hands and roaming mouths, he began to strip away the layers of her clothing. Beneath his coarse, calloused fingers, she was soft and pliant. When he first met her, she was very thin and rough, but after months of toning her body and eating every day, her body filled out again. He brought his bandaged fingers up to her breasts and began to knead the flesh, running a thumb against the small pink skin of her nipple. Esther rocked her hips against the bulge in his jeans, rubbing the small nub of her sex on his hardness, shuddering in pleasure with each movement.

Reluctantly, his fingers found her entrance. He ran a delicate finger up and down her slit and- oh, God help him, she was so wet. With each ministration she would shiver and writhe, pleas for more escaping her swollen lips. He slid his index finger inside her, his thumb coming up to rub that small little pearl above her opening. His thumb moved in slow, methodical circles, relishing each mewl of pleasure that Esther emitted. It wasn't long before she was squirming above him, begging, insatiable in her need.

He rolled her onto her back and she spreads her legs for him, the swell of her sex wet and so inviting. At the sight, he felt himself grow harder, if that was even possible. With clumsy fingers, she worked his belt buckle, pulling his jeans open. Soon he was exposed, her hand guiding him to her entrance. With a roll of his hips, he entered her, spreading her tight folds around him. She slid her head to the side and moaned; it was deep and visceral, and he felt her muscles tighten around him.

Joshua's hand wandered to her neck and around her throat, half cupping her face. He started to move his hips, pulling out, pushing in, his breathing coming in shallow gasps. Esther made a smothered noise at the back of her throat, clutching at him as he worked inside her. He watched her face, every nuance, every shiver and furrow of her brow, the way her composure steadily slipped away. Her olive skin glistened in the firelight, her slender jaw and high cheekbones casting jagged shadows against her face. The woman was gorgeous; angelic. He knew she was too pure for him, too good of heart. He was sullying her, tainting her with each animalistic pump of his hips.

Oh God, he was close already.

He slowed his movements and she lifted her hips, thrusting methodically, matching his pace. He groaned into her neck. She was so delicate. He was fighting the bestial urge to have his way with her, to be rough like he used to do with the slave women in his youth, when he was at the peak of his prowess. He wanted to pound into her, to push her onto her hands and knees and mount her in the most vulgar of ways... but she deserved better than that. She wasn't a slave woman, she was Esther, his only sliver of light in a world of darkness.

"Are you," she gasped, a throaty feminine sound, "close?"

He slid out slowly, tortuously, feeling the slickness of her arousal against him. It was all he could do to refrain from climaxing, and he grit his teeth and ground out, "Yes I'm... I'm sorry it's been a while since I've done this."

"It's okay," she ran her fingers along the back of his neck, catching her mouth with his. "It's been a while since I've... done this willingly."

That's right, she had been Vulpes' wife, his property to be tossed around and used to sate his sexual urges. That man had, had her long before Joshua, claiming her as his before Joshua even knew of the young courier. Vulpes didn't deserve her, to pluck the delicate flower and corrupt her innocence. He shook his head to banish that train of thought, feeling the familiar fingers of jealousy grip around his heart and squeeze. In response he pushed into her and she tossed her head back, her mouth gaping in silent moan. This time he moved faster, ramming into her roughly, holding her hips down with his hand. Pressure began to build at the base of his spine, his entire body tingling, his skin prickling with his growing pleasure.

"Esther... I'm sorry, I'm going to-" he muttered.

She didn't respond, instead she wrapped her legs around his waist and pulled him tighter against her. Once again she matched his pace, and it wasn't long before a moan tore through his chest and he felt the hotness of his release inside her. He buried his masked face into her hair, his lips working against her ears, telling her all the sweet things he never had the courage to do so before. His body shook all over as she rocked against him, riding him through his climax. He dropped against her small frame, propping himself up with his elbows to make sure he wasn't crushing her. It was oddly still for a few moments, the room filled with their deep breathing. Something didn't seem right. When he pulled back to look at Esther, he was horrified to see her face wet with tears. She was crying.

"Esther," he brought her face into his hands, swiping a thumb at the tears that continued to spill from her eyes, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry... don't cry. Please, don't cry."

He chased her tears with chaste kisses, his stomach dropping out beneath him. Nothing he could do would squelch her distress and she continued to sob, her body trembling violently beneath him.

"I- I..." she stumbled over her words, "I'm sorry."

"You have nothing to be sorry about," he held her face like a child, "I shouldn't have taken advantage of you."

"It's not that," she warbled, her lips pulled downwards into the deepest frown he had ever seen. "I don't remember the last time I was treated so... so tenderly. I've grown so accustomed to being thrown around and you... you..."

She couldn't complete her sentence as her chest shook with suppressed sobs. He could tell she was trying to regain composure. Their union had brought back some awful memories. If Joshua could pinpoint the one moment he had genuinely felt like an evil bastard, now was it. He knew this was wrong. The moment he entered her, he proved himself unfit to care for this broken woman. As much as he adored her, he cared so little about her pleasure that he couldn't control himself. Maybe if he had made her feel good, reminded her that sex could be good for both of them, she wouldn't be so distraught.

"Esther..."

"No," she rested her palms against his vest, "don't say my name like that. I know you, and I know you're blaming yourself. Don't."

"Esther," he brought his mouth to her ear, "my voice of reason."

The woman beneath him laughed, though tears still slipped from her eyes, and she pressed her mouth to his. This kiss wasn't like the ones before them, which were born in lust and hunger. He placed a hand against her throat and the other found its way under her back. They held onto each other, and Joshua was afraid that if he squeezed her too tightly she would shatter into a million pieces.

They pulled apart and smiled at one another ruefully. That's when he remembered his surly cowboy friend at the bottom of the canyon waiting for him to join, so they could discuss what to do with their factions.

"Oh, no. I forgot," he pulled out of her and jumped to his feet, tucking everything back into his jeans and buckling his belt. "Daniel is waiting for me."

"Okay," she sounded disappointed as she sat up, her hair tousled and her lips swollen.

"I'll only be gone for a short while," he reached out, gesturing for her hand. He pressed his lips to her hand before readjusting his bandages, covering the lower half of his face.

With that he was exiting the small cave and headed towards the bottom of the canyon. A breeze moved past him, cooling the sheen of sweat beneath his bandages. A familiar cowboy hat came into view and Joshua felt all his prior stress and worries resurface with a vengeance. How long had he kept Daniel waiting? Regardless of their disagreement, he was sure that leaving his companion out here for a long while was just another proverbial nail in the coffin of their friendship.

As Daniel heard him approaching he turned around, "Where the hell have you been? I've been waiting for almost an hour."

"Bible study," he shrugged. "Esther awoke and wanted me to read her some passages."

Daniel's eyes narrowed suspiciously, "Yeah, sure."

Joshua shrugged dismissively and sat next to the fire. Throughout the night the two men discussed what to do with Zion and how to doll out power between the tribes effectively. He tried to focus, but part of his brain kept wandering to the young courier who laid naked in her bedroll, wrapped in furs, awaiting for his return.

* * *

**A/N: So, some of you whom are familiar with Song of Solomon may realize the way I wrote it is not in order. I took some artistic liberties and switched it around so it flowed better. Also, I'm sorry if I didn't capture Graham's personality completely. I tried my best. Please R&R!**


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